


Treed

by KtwoNtwo



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cat!Bond, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KtwoNtwo/pseuds/KtwoNtwo
Summary: Richard Sterling, a premier agent of MI6, has it bad. In his attempt to woo his Quartermaster he finds himself dealing with a matchmaking Eve Moneypenny, a smattering of villains and the Quartermaster's bad tempered cat, James Bond.





	Treed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hellcat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409725) by [SvengoolieCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SvengoolieCat/pseuds/SvengoolieCat). 



> Hopefully this stands on its own but since it is a derivative work based on Svengooliecat’s story (see the finely crafted link above), here are a couple facts which may be helpful: 1. James Bond is a feline. Yes, a cat. His former owner, the writer Vesper Lynd (deceased), named him after her premier spy character 007. 2. Bond was rescued from a shelter by Eve Moneypenny and now belongs to the Quartermaster of MI 6. If you ask Bond, however, Q belongs to him. 3. Richard Sterling is a 00 agent for MI 6. Yes, he’s the current 007.

Sterling was feeling rather disgusted with himself. There were three primary reasons. One, he’d left his Walther at MI 6 in response to Eve Moneypenny’s suggestion that actually complying with the regulations about carrying firearms _in country_ would impress Q. He’d also foregone stopping at home for his Sig in lieu of purchasing supplies to make Lasagna. Two, he’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, answering Q’s door for a ostensible delivery person and being Tasered into insensibility for his troubles. Three, upon coming back to consciousness hands cuffed behind his back and tied up in a tree, his initial attempt to get to his lock picks had somehow resulted in his hanging upside down. Now to add insult to injury, James Bond, Q’s rescue cat, was looking up at him judgmentally from the branch below.  
  
It had all started with a comment by Moneypenny that, judging from the state of his kitchen, Q must be surviving on pot noodles and take-away. Richard had decided then and there that he’d take advantage of his mandatory post mission downtime, break into Q’s flat, and cook him a decent meal.  He’d enlisted Moneypenny to shoo Q out of the branch at a reasonable hour and then proceeded to implement his plan taking into account her suggestion about the absence of firearms.  
  
The initial steps went smoothly. Acquiring the appropriate ingredients was the matter of a few stops.  Picking Q’s door lock was just as easy as it had been the first he’d done it. As he had expected, the first challenge had been the hellcat Bond.  
  
Sterling had hopes that the somewhat detente he’d achieved with the cat when Q had been sick would carry over enough to allow him to cook.  Just in case he’d acquired some cat treats of which Bond was fond.  Richard had calculated that if the bribe didn’t work and worse came to worse he’d just have to brave tooth and claw and lock Bond in the bedroom.  He had counted himself lucky when Bond had only growled at him and gave him a dirty look upon his entry into the flat.  The cat treats had been provided and ignored in favor of Bond sitting on the table carefully watching his every move.  If Sterling had been one to indulge in a flight of anthropomorphic fancy he might have concluded that Bond approved of his attempt to provide Q with appropriate sustenance.  
  
Once the Lasagna was in the oven, salad made, and garlic bread prepped Sterling had found himself with some time on his hands.  Bond had vacated his perch on the table and disappeared somewhere just as he was winding things up.  The cat was apparently now trusting that he wouldn’t do anything untoward.  Sterling wandered into the sitting room and was perusing Q’s collection of Vesper Lynd novels when the bell had rung.

He answered via the intercom.  A cheerful voice announced a package for Mr. Quentin Bootheroid.  Richard knew that this was Q’s primary civilian alias and the name on this flat so he had no qualms about buzzing the delivery person in and meeting him at the door to sign for the package.  At that point things went tits up.

Sterling had been signing for the package, a large ungainly cardboard box, when he’d caught motion from the corner of his eye.  Agent reflexes kicking in he’d shoved the delivery person into the wall and attempted to jump back through the door into the flat.  Unfortunately he wasn’t quite fast enough and was hit by not one but two Taser shots.  The ensuing voltage took him down into a semi-stunned state, unable to move.  That in turn resulted in Sterling being manhandled into the flat, trussed up like a Christmas goose and hauled out the window into the tree. 

Richard supposed there was some benefit to this turn of events.  He knew there were three men in the flat.  There was in all probability a fourth on lookout duty.  They were most definitely after Q but did not appear to be aware that he worked for MI 6.  They also had pegged Richard himself as _the boyfriend_ and were keeping him around as potential leverage to get Q to do whatever it was they wanted.  There was even a benefit to ending up hanging upside down.  It was quite a bit easier in this position to get at the lock picks stored in the back of his belt this way.

As Sterling worked on getting out of the handcuffs he noticed that Bond had wandered nonchalantly back along the branch and into the flat’s open window.  By the time he’d managed to get his arms free and back in working order Bond had returned carrying a pen in his mouth.  Sterling recognized the pen.  It was one of Q’s recent creations which shot paralytic darts.  The range was short and there were only three darts but all the elite agents, Richard included, wanted it.  The pen had disappeared last week.  Q had thrown absolute fit about it saying that the thing hadn’t been properly beta tested. 

Now how, Sterling wondered, was he going to convince Bond to give him the pen?  He needn’t have worried.  Bond looked up at him, gathered himself and jumped.  Of course the cat hadn’t bothered to wait until Richard was right side up which resulted in scratches and claws in some very awkward places.  After some jockeying for position and an impressive display of abdominal strength, Sterling, Bond and the pen ended up right side up on the branch.  From there it was a relatively easy task for Sterling to take care of the situation.

********

Q arrived home at a decent hour thanks to Moneypenny threatening his R&D budget.  The flat was redolent with the smell of garlic and basil.  He could also hear someone talking.  Q cautiously entered the flat with his hand on the firearm he kept in his computer bag.  As he passed the kitchen he noticed a pan of lasagna cooling on the top of the stove.  Who, he wondered breaks into a flat and cooks?  The question was answered when he looked into the sitting room. The sight almost made him drop his bag and the gun in surprise. 

A slightly scratched Richard Sterling was sitting in one of his arm chairs.  James Bond was lying on the back of the sofa emulating an afghan.  Sterling looked up but didn’t stop his reading aloud from the book.  After listening for a bit Q recognized it; Vesper Lynd’s first novel.  Q put his bag down, engaging the safety on the gun as he did so, just as Sterling reached the end of the chapter.

He rose from the chair saying, “I’ll have dinner on the table in ten minutes if you want to freshen up,” as he headed for the kitchen.

Q really didn’t know what to say so he complied.  Upon returning to the kitchen he found a fully set table, complete with wine and candles, along with Sterling just finishing plating the meal.  Bond had usurped one of the extra chairs. 

“Thank you,” Q started for lack of anything else to say, “This must have taken hours.”

“Post mission down time,” Richard replied.  “Things get a bit boring.”

“I’m surprised you braved Bond’s wrath rather than just inviting me out.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Sterling replied looking at Bond who was crunching on the end of a cat treat, “We came to an accommodation.”

Well that explained the scratches.  Still Q felt a bit tongue tied his brain scrabbling for something else to say until he blurted, “Uh, you wouldn’t happen to know why my bedroom window was open?”

Q really didn’t expect the response he got.  Sterling looked at Bond.  Bond abandoned the cat treat, sat up and looked at Sterling.  They both looked at him.

Sterling finally replied in the voice he normally used when putting the best possible spin on why exactly his equipment had been destroyed, “Bond was interested in something that ended up in the tree.”

Q decided he really didn’t want to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled across Svengooliecat's story and the next thing I knew there was a plot bunny sitting at my feet shedding sentences all over my clothes. What, I ask you, is a self respecting writer supposed to do when that happens? My choice, as indicated by this post, is obvious. As this is a stand alone I'll close as usual,
> 
>  
> 
> _If this writer has offended,_  
>  _Think but this and all is mended,_  
>  _That you have but tarried here,_  
>  _While the writing did appear,_  
>  _And these words upon this screen,_  
>  _Are of no import, only my dream._
> 
>  
> 
> It has been an honor to share my dream with you.


End file.
